Red Dawn
by missjov
Summary: A romantic adventure with Faramir. Tragic outcome. Chapter 12 [Answer] up!
1. Son of the Steward

Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.R.R. Tolkien's character or places. Ariaelle of Imladris is a character of my own making. I do not intend to make money from this piece of writing. If any character or place in this writing is somehow related to those of real life, it is purely coincidental.  
  
Author's note: Hey, this is my first piece of fanfiction I've ever written. I hope it's okay to your tastes. I'd like to thank my sister for her encouragement and for getting me started on 'Red Dawn'. I'd like to dedicate this story to J.R.R. Tolkien, who wrote the Lord of the Rings and inspired me to write more. And I would also like to dedicate this story partly to David Wenham, who's portrayal of Faramir in New Line's Lord of the Rings was awesome and got my mind set. Also, if anyone could drop a review, it would be very much appreciated.  
  
Red Dawn  
  
By: Ariaelle  
  
I followed Father to the mess hall. He'd just been informed that there was a "meeting" with all the other soldiers and guardsmen of Minas Tirith. I knew it wasn't so. From the winks and other hints that the messenger had given my Father while he delivered the message, it was enough to say that tonight would be spent drinking and laughing. My brother would have come, but he'd wanted to tend to his mount. Apparently, it had a rock stuck in its hoof and the stable boy wasn't sure how to get it out. I didn't drink ale or beer. I'd never liked the taste. I didn't even know why I came. Maybe it was to show that I wasn't the same as all the other girls. Maybe it was to show my differences. And yet, what differences were there to show?  
  
Father didn't want me to go. 'There were too many men,' he had said. I'd said that I would be fine and he just sighed. He didn't really care about me, I knew. I mean, I'd always wanted to learn how to ride, and fight with the bow and blade, like any other lad. But after my brother was born, my father took no more notice of me. He might have taught me if my brother never existed. But it wasn't so, and I ended up trying to push a needle through cloth. I couldn't sew and I couldn't cook anything worth singing of. I spent my days studying Elvish, Westron and Numenorean. Occasionally, Lord Elrond would summon me to teach some of his healing skills. I already missed Imladris. There, it was so peaceful, so calm.  
  
As I entered the mess hall, I was instantly bewildered. The only light came from various candles and lamps on the walls and tables. And there were so many soldiers. All had a similarity to Father. All were so broad and tall.so Gondorian, I thought at the time.  
  
I felt a little uncomfortable around so many of them, like father had said, and I tried to avoid the many eyes on me as we entered the room. My father broke into smiles and hearty laughs. He spoke to many of the men, who I guessed were his friends. Most of them looked at me, smiled kindly, or winked, or did other things that made me blush. I was fortunate that there were no bright lights, which would show my embarrassment.  
  
As my father went on into the crowded room, I began to feel tired. The heat and the smell of so many bodies in such a small space gave me a headache. The soldiers had obviously been drinking; the ale barrels on the side were still dripping with excess liquid. I blinked and looked around. I noticed the paintings on the side of the hall. Stopping in my tracks, I observed one, which hung from a pillar. It depicted the city of Osgiliath. The colors were beautiful, blending into each other. The banner of the White Tree elegantly fluttered in the breeze. The buildings were like those of Minas Tirith, only they had no circle floors.  
  
I turned back and to my horror, my father was nowhere to be seen. I pushed past a group of soldiers who grinned drunkenly at me. It was so hot. Suddenly all the men seemed to look the same. I pushed past some more soldiers and whirled around. Where was he? Where was my father?  
  
Turning my head, I kept going into my previous direction. I scanned the tables to my left and right, running as I did.  
  
The emblem of the White Tree. It seemed so close. I collided hard with someone. I stumbled back, a look of surprise on my face. The young man looked down at me. I breathed slowly, and met his eyes. I could see the puzzlement on his face.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I was just.hurrying past, and I didn't see you." I said. The man had short, wavy, light brown hair. His eyes were a bright blue with gentle shades of gray. They reminded me of the sea.  
  
"It's quite all right." He said quietly. His voice was smooth and quiet, yet not soft unless he meant it to be. "Are you hurt?" he asked.  
  
"No, sir, I'm not. Thank you though." I said, rubbing my wrist unconsciously. I'd pulled the muscle while riding here.  
  
"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, pointing to a table near the corner. It was away from the crowd and seemed quiet.  
  
I consented, "It's very kind of you, sir." It's a little odd for a soldier to ask a lady to sit.very odd, I thought.  
  
His blue-gray eyes lightened and he smiled a little, "I haven't seen you around before." He strode over the chair quicker than I did and pulled it out for me.  
  
I blushed, "Err.Thank you, sir. I'm from Rivendell."  
  
"Rivendell?" he said, "I thought your dress looked to be elven made." I blushed again and nodded.  
  
"What is your name?" he asked, "From what I know, there have been no visitors from Rivendell."  
  
"Ariaelle of Imladris." I said, "My father's name is Mariol. He's a guardsman here. I'm a half-elf. My mother." I stopped for a moment and felt his blue eyes on me, "My mother was an elf and my father from Gondor."  
  
"I see." He murmured. I was still rubbing my wrist because it hurt. But I did it under the table so that the man wouldn't see. I stretched my legs and they hit his. My head shot up and his eyes met mine again. He was still smiling a little.  
  
"Sorry." I said quickly. He shifted his chair a little so that his legs pointed away from mine. I was free to stretch again. Giving him a small smile, I took up the space. I rubbed my hurting wrist again. The movement of my shoulders attracted his attention.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked curiously. As if on cue, my finger touched a tender spot and I winced.  
  
"Oh.well.my wrist hurts a little. That's all." I said. Did this man see everything?  
  
"May I see?" he asked sincerely.  
  
I blinked and blinked again. Slowly, I nodded. He moved his hands near my wrist and paused, "Can I touch your wrist?"  
  
I was astounded by his question. This man obviously had courtesy and consideration as his prime traits. I nodded again and felt his fingertips gently prodding my wrist. My elvish dress had sleeves that were not really sleeves. The cloth covered my upper arm but, before the elbow, it split. The effect was a like a cape when the wearer walked. I felt odd, having his hands examine my naked arm.  
  
But his hands were gentle and they eliminated a lot of the tension in my wrist. Then he paused again. "If I'm right," he said to me. "It should hurt there." He pointed to near my pulse.  
  
"You can try," I said.  
  
He looked at me and pushed the spot gently. The result was my drawing a very quick and sharp breath. I shot him a brief glance.  
  
"How did you do that?" I asked, surprised, cocking my head to one side. A common soldier skilled in the arts of healing?  
  
"I talk to the healers sometimes. I learn simple things like those."  
  
"Oh." I said dumbly. I wasn't usually like this. I think it was because of the man's calm expression.  
  
"Haven't you learned that from Lord Elrond in Imladris?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, yes." I said, "I just.can't heal myself yet. I can heal others though." I admitted. And how did he know Lord Elrond had taught me?  
  
"I see." He murmured, "What can you do?"  
  
"Um.I can heal external wounds and bleeding, though severe bleeding makes me tired." He nodded understandingly. "I can also heal fractures and broken bones.severe ones are difficult. I can clean wounds and heal.err.basic sicknesses."  
  
"That's quite a bit." I blushed once again.  
  
"Oh well.you found where it hurt," I complimented him.  
  
"But you said that you could not yet heal yourself, so there is nothing to say." He said softly. My wrist tightened and the muscle hurt. I flinched.  
  
"Can you make it go away?" I asked.  
  
"The pain? Maybe, but it would have to hurt before it got better. You should keep talking while I work on it." he said.  
  
He moved his fingers again to my wrist. His fingertips massaged the places near the focus of the pain. My expression was blank. I just watched, because I had nothing to say. It felt good. His warm hands on my wrist evoked dangerous feelings.  
  
Easy on, I thought. You don't even know his name. He's just another soldier that you bumped into. Hopefully, Father can make friends with him.  
  
"Do you shoot as well as Mariol?" he asked me, carrying out the conversation.  
  
"Well.I wanted to, but he never taught me." I said distastefully.  
  
"Oh, really?" he said, "You wanted to learn how to fight?"  
  
I nodded, "Yes, I've always wanted to, but Father doesn't think that I should learn how. I end up reading and writing instead. Perhaps I'll be a scholar and not a Ranger."  
  
"There are no female Rangers." He said quietly, his fingers stopping their movement.  
  
"Oh really? How do you know?" I asked curiously.  
  
He sighed, "I am Faramir, second son of Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor. I command the Rangers of Ithilien."  
  
There was a long silence between us. I was still staring at him. Suddenly I stood up; my chair luckily did not tip over, but scraped back loudly against the floor. My eyes went wide and my wrist was no longer in his gentle hands.  
  
"My lord." I stammered, "Forgive me, I did not know who you were. I thought you were only a common soldier." I made a hasty bow and when I straightened, I realised that I should have curtseyed. I swallowed hard.  
  
Faramir was watching me closely. He obviously had realised that I'd bowed like a boy and not curtseyed like a girl. But his eyes were warm and welcoming. His smile had faded. I don't think that he liked the fact that I'd grabbed my wrist away from him. From what Lord Elrond had said, it hurt when a healer was healing and the patient stops the chain of concentration. It had happened once to me, when I had tried to heal a servant boy's cut. He'd jerked away and it was as though he'd hit me. I couldn't finish healing him.  
  
"Sit down, Lady Ariaelle," he said finally. I looked up to see his eyes and they looked tired. He must have been concentrating very hard. I felt so guilty. I'd caused the son of the Steward pain because he told me who he really was. And yet, I couldn't really blame myself. I didn't know he was so important. I couldn't really have done anything about it.  
  
"I'm sorry, my lord." I mumbled and he gave me a smile.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
"Because I broke your concentration, my lord."  
  
"That's alright." He sighed. "Will you sit down now?"  
  
"My lord." I murmured and took my seat. Compared to before, I was now sitting extremely straight with my eyes downcast. I made no move to let him finish on my wrist. I didn't speak. I was rubbing my wrist again. It stung where his healing had been cut off.  
  
"Now, Lady, would you please speak to me like you did? Before you really knew who I was?" Faramir asked gently.  
  
"As you wish, my lord." I said.  
  
"Please don't call me that." He sniffed. "May I finish my work?"  
  
"Err.yes." I said awkwardly, "But...sir.doesn't it hurt?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your.mind." I murmured, "It must have hurt when I pulled away."  
  
He nodded, "Yes, it did.and it still does." I looked absolutely horrified that I'd hurt him so, "But it's alright, like I said."  
  
"Can I fix it?" I asked. He looked at me closely, "It would make me feel.less.unhappy." I mumbled in reply.  
  
He blinked, "No, I'll see a healer later." My mouth opened a little, as I was about to say that I was a healer too. But it seemed to me like I sounded like a child.  
  
It couldn't have really gotten any worse. I'd bumped into him and then he'd told me to sit down. I'd kicked him, by accident, and he moved away so I could have the space. He tried to heal me and I hurt him back. I'd offered to help him and he declined. What kind of a person was this? Was it because he didn't want me to cause trouble? Was it because he thought girls could do nothing? I didn't understand any of it.  
  
I heard something. My ears pricked. There were rushing footsteps coming to the door nearest us. The opposite door, to which I came from, I remembered.  
  
"Someone's coming." I said softly. He turned around to see the door, which I was staring at. A wave of comprehension washed over him.  
  
"Not him." he muttered. 


	2. The Steward of Gondor

Author's note: I hope I'm getting something from writing this chapter. I've decided that the Faramir in this fanfic will be based on the Faramir in New Line's LotR (the movies). I haven't gotten any reviews yet, so I don't really know how to improve it. But I think that I should put more detail into the writing. Is that right? Anyhow, thank you very much for reading. And please review!  
  
The Steward of Gondor  
  
Lord Denethor strode in, flanked by two guards, "WHAT IS GOING ON?" he roared. Most of the soldiers scrambled around. Some ran out the other door.  
  
I almost jumped in surprise. This was the Steward? This was Faramir's.father? He looked nothing like his son. Lanky gray hair, gray fur- trimmed coat, and sunken expressions. His eyes were sharp and piercing. They had nothing in common at all. Denethor's voice was booming, while Faramir's was gentle. The Steward's appearance was intimidating, while his son's was calming.  
  
Faramir looked indifferent from before. He didn't turn around, nor looked at me. His eyes were troubled, as if by doubt.  
  
"WHO BEGAN THIS?" yelled the Steward. I almost jumped again. This time, Faramir looked up, and then he stood. "Faramir." Said the Steward. "You again. Why must you always disobey me? Why must you always do things your way? Why can't you be more like -"  
  
"Boromir." Faramir said softly. "Father.I."  
  
"I don't want to hear it."  
  
With difficulty, Faramir swallowed the words he wanted to say. He took a step back, pushing the table with his leg. I stood before the table would pin me to the chair.  
  
"Sorry." Faramir murmured.  
  
"It's alright, my lord." I replied quietly.  
  
Denethor turned to the men; "I expect all of you to report tomorrow morning, as scheduled. No exceptions." The men all looked stunned. One, they hadn't expected to have to wake as early as the days before. Two, they were almost terrified of the Steward.  
  
One of the soldiers stepped forward, "Go to it, men." He commanded. The last of the soldiers finally pushed their way out the door. I went also, but before the door, I stopped and looked back. The soldier who had commanded the men to leave was still with Faramir and the Steward. The seemed to be so immersed on their argument that they didn't notice me.  
  
"Faramir. Why? Why are you always.like this?" Denethor stopped at a loss for words.  
  
"Father, I didn't." The second son of the Steward was trying to say.  
  
"You did." Came the reply.  
  
"No. Father, he didn't." Said the other soldier.  
  
"Boromir?" said Denethor in a puzzled voice.  
  
"I started it." Boromir said. "Father.Faramir was against my starting it."  
  
That earned a stunned look on the Steward's face. Faramir looked at his older brother and frowned. Again at a loss for words, Denethor turned to me. I flinched.  
  
"What are you doing there, girl?" boomed the Steward.  
  
I curtseyed as swiftly as I could without tripping and thought quickly for an excuse. I began, "Well.my lord, I was leaving, and then I realised that I do not know the way to my.ah.chambers."  
  
"Why did you not ask another soldier?" he said.  
  
"I doubt they would know, nor concern over such a small matter." I replied as calmly as I could.  
  
"And so you decided that the Steward of Gondor would concern over it instead?" he said smugly.  
  
I blinked. Now I was stuck. "Well." I stammered, fumbling for something to say.  
  
"I was speaking to her." Faramir interrupted. "I was telling her the way to her rooms before you stopped us."  
  
"Well, girl, you are dismissed. Leave." Said Denethor, as though Faramir had not spoken. I blinked and left the room. I shut the doors after me and waited, listening. I had nowhere to go, after all.  
  
"Boromir." Denethor was saying. "Do not do this again."  
  
"Father.the men are bored. If we do not start it, they will. It could get out of control." Boromir pleaded.  
  
"And you will be there to stop them." Said Denethor shortly. I listened intently but it was silent for the next few seconds. Finally, "You are both dismissed."  
  
I was a little surprised at the abruptness of the conversation. Quickly, I followed the corridor to my right. I really had no idea where my chambers were. Seconds later, the doors opened and quiet whispers and footsteps followed my route. I hurried my steps, unsure of what to do. Perhaps I should run, or maybe I should just.oh what do I do?! Finally, I stopped my walking. I listened to the footsteps as they neared me. When they had come but a short distance away, I turned around. It was Faramir, and his older brother, Boromir. I curtseyed, but kept my mouth shut. I stayed in the position for a good, long 5 seconds.  
  
"Please." Came Faramir's voice. "Please rise." He bade me. I did, but kept my eyes downcast. I had a bad feeling that Boromir was watching me intently. "This is my older brother, Boromir." He introduced. His voice sounded disappointed and depressed.  
  
I curtseyed again, still silent. Boromir told me to stand again. "So this is the girl who took so much of your attention that you were not able to talk with the other men." I colored.  
  
"Oh brother, stop your teasing." Faramir laughed suddenly, "You're embarrassing her." I blushed even harder and Boromir elbowed his brother.  
  
"See.it isn't me." He turned his eyes to me once again and I flinched. "Look here." I did, slowly. He surveyed me for a long moment. Then he quickly backed away, "She's an elf." he stammered.  
  
Faramir was trying his hardest not to burst, "No, brother, she's a half- elf.all the way from Imladris!"  
  
I swallowed, and tried to lower my eyes from Boromir's keen ones. "No, wait, your eyes." he began.  
  
My eyes, I thought. Oh no, was I doing it again? He can't see this. I broke off eye contact.  
  
"I know." Said Faramir softly. "I know what you mean." And he grabbed Boromir's belt, pulling him away from me. "Stop fooling around." He grinned.  
  
Boromir broke out of his trance and turned to Faramir. Laughing, he dove at his brother who ducked him swiftly. I had no choice but to observe the scene. It was so awkward. Why were these.almost Princes, grabbing each other and laughing like ordinary men? Boromir had Faramir backed up on the opposite wall and Faramir was still eagerly taunting him. Boromir grew redder by the millisecond.  
  
Suddenly all was quiet. Faramir had stopped his quiet taunts and Boromir had stopped laughing. I think I almost stopped breathing.  
  
"You know? I think she's watching you. You don't want to make a fool of yourself in front of the lady you fancy. It's a common misconception." Said Faramir, as though he was Cupid himself. I blinked. Boromir lunged at him and Faramir ducked, "Calm down, dear brother." He said.  
  
Finally, Boromir laughed again and backed away, "When I get my hands on you." he threatened good-naturedly.  
  
Faramir sniffed, "Lady Ariaelle's been very patient, Boromir." He said. I looked up, totally confused. I didn't understand these two. On one side, they were dutiful soldiers. And on the other side, they were young men, having their fun. "I think I'll take the Lady to her rooms now. Good night, brother."  
  
"Now you wait a second. I'll do it." Boromir offered quickly.  
  
"I knew it!" Faramir smiled and laughed. It was an elegant sound, smooth and rippling. It sent a shiver down my spine and my insides felt as though butterflies were fluttering up and down. "My Lady, beware. You've caught Boromir in your net." Boromir just about lunged at Faramir again but stopped himself.  
  
"You choose, my lady." Boromir said fairly, winking at me.  
  
There was a slight pause as I worded a response, "Oh.my lords, I don't know. Perhaps you should just tell me where they are. I could go alone." I said with proper etiquette.  
  
They both looked at each other. I tried to smile. Boromir blinked and Faramir's smile faded.  
  
"I'm the older one," said Boromir finally. "I'll go."  
  
"But I met her first!" Faramir protested.  
  
"I'll tell.Father!" Boromir threatened triumphantly.  
  
Faramir looked at him quickly. I frowned. He obviously seemed very unhappy. "That's below the belt." He said softly.  
  
"I know." Boromir said understandingly, smiling.  
  
"Fine, brother. But I expect you to not get lost," Faramir said. And he gave me a small bend at the waist, my gallant soldier. "Good night." He murmured.  
  
He patted Boromir on the shoulder, whispered something in quick Numenorean to him, which I did not catch, and left. 


	3. Boromir

Author's note: I've gotten 3 reviews already! And I'm really happy that I received them. It means that someone's reading this stuff after all!! Anyhow, please keep reading! And please keep reviewing.you can send as many as you like! I only want to try to improve my story and Chapter 4 isn't far behind. I have it all planned. Don't worry, it won't get really sad until the end. And that's quite a while behind. I think I'm going to start one or two more fanfics. One might be Faramir version of this story, or maybe the narrative version, so that you can have both side's point of view. I won't ditch this one, Ariaelle is a great character to play with. Really mature and strong, and yet.very young. So stay tuned. I'm still here.  
  
Boromir  
  
As Faramir left, I felt more and more nervous. When I was finally alone with Boromir, he turned to me and eyed my dress. "Are you cold?" he asked.  
  
Yes, I was shivering. And yes, I was cold. "No, my lord." I lied. "But thank you." I could tell that he knew I was lying. Brothers.those two were of a kind, and yet, they were so very different.  
  
Respecting my wish to be left alone, he set off at a slow pace, waiting for me to catch up. I waited three steps and followed him, because such was the rule when one follows another of higher rank. I wondered why they hadn't just told me the location of my chambers? They didn't expect me to be like the rest of the empty headed court ladies, did they? Well, I thought, maybe I shouldn't have chosen such fancy clothing.  
  
He stopped suddenly and turned around. I almost bumped into him. "Walk up here, will you." He said, gesturing beside him. I frowned.  
  
"My lord, I should be three paces behind you." I said.  
  
"Lady, you should be listening to me." I immediately did what he told me to do.  
  
He smiled, "Don't worry. I'm not going to bite."  
  
I nodded, "I figured as much, my lord."  
  
He smiled, "It's good that you will answer me now. Don't be shy." At the end of the hall, he stopped again and put a hand on my shoulder, "That way." he wheeled me to the left.  
  
"My lord, I would like it very much if you didn't." I said stiffly.  
  
He looked down at me and took his hand off my shoulder, "As you wish, then." He murmured.  
  
We walked on in silence. At length, he slowed his pace even more and eventually stopped.  
  
"Do you like windows?" he asked suddenly. I nodded, raising an eyebrow. "I believe you'll be staying for awhile, am I correct?"  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
"Would you rather have a room up here in the fourth circle with windows? Or perhaps in the third, near the kitchens? What did Faramir tell you?"  
  
"Oh, my lord, he didn't."  
  
"I'm sorry?" he asked.  
  
"My lord Faramir did not tell me anything of my rooms." I said slowly.  
  
"You mean he was lying? To Father?"  
  
"Oh, my lord Boromir, please do not tell your father about this! Faramir only wished to help me answer him." I exclaimed.  
  
Boromir was taken aback. Apparently, he didn't expect me to defend Faramir so strongly. My only hope was that he would not realise my feelings toward his brother, as I barely understood them myself.  
  
"Well, then which room would you like." He sighed at length.  
  
"I'll just take the fourth circle, my lord. Thank you." I murmured.  
  
He nodded curtly and with a swish of his cape, strode on. I fell in beside him, lost in thought. Finally he reached a door and as he reached for the doorknob, drew his hand back again. He undid a buckle at his throat and took off his cloak.  
  
"It's cold outside." He explained, seeing my confused look.  
  
"Oh no, my lord, I'll be fine." I said, refusing it.  
  
"You'll freeze." And with that, he put the cloak around my shoulders and moved away as I buckled it on myself. I gave him a small smile. He respected my wishes, it seemed, and I gratefully accepted the cloak he had warmed before giving it to me. Boromir slid open the door and I followed him through. As I stepped outside, I realised that he had meant well. The air I breathed out froze and faded before my eyes.  
  
Boromir's pace had quickened and I hurried my steps to follow him. He turned and I was at the very edge of the circle. I could make out the many guards and sentries. The banner of the White Tree waved in the wind. It was such a beautiful view. The fields of Pelennor stretched before Minas Tirith, and beyond, the Mountains. So beautiful, and yet, so dangerous. One of the guards greeted Boromir and I. I nodded back and he smiled a little. After a small exchange of words, Boromir bade him 'goodnight' and we left. He pushed open one of the doors and shut it behind us.  
  
I beheld a corridor lit by torches. Entirely grateful for the warmth, I smiled inwardly. Boromir stopped in front of a door.  
  
"This will be your room, then." He declared.  
  
"Thank you, my lord." I said, curtseying.  
  
"There are servants. If you ring, they will come." Boromir opened the door, stepped in, indicating the bell.  
  
I thanked him and stood at the door, waiting for him to leave. He didn't, but lingered, walking around the room. I raised an eyebrow. What was he doing now?  
  
With ease, Boromir lit the torches. I sat down on the bed, sighing. I took off the cloak he had lent me, got up, and stopped. I didn't know how to do it. Should I curtsey, or just give it to him, or put it on him? I dismissed the last idea. There was no way I would put his own cloak on him.  
  
He turned around once and beheld me as I stood, holding his cloak, unsure of what to do. He straightened and came towards me. I swallowed; it was too late to curtsey. "Thank you." He murmured, and I realised that I had held the cloak in front of me. He took it from my hands and I made the mistake of looking up at him, as his eyes locked to mine. I tried hard to tear away because I could not let him see. I shut my eyes and felt his hand on my shoulder.  
  
"Are you alright? Do you wish to see a healer?" he asked, concerned.  
  
"No, I'm fine, my lord." I replied, avoiding his eyes.  
  
He took his hands off and headed towards the door. There, he spun around to face me again, and said, "Good night, my lady."  
  
I replied with, "And to you, my lord." And he shut the door behind him.  
  
I paced the room back and forth, thoughts pouring out of me. Did I let him see? Did I make a fool of myself? Where are my saddlebags? I think I need a bath. I'm tired and I want to sleep. But what if he truly saw?  
  
Frustrated with myself, I sat on the bed and took three deep breaths. Okay, what do I do now? I need my saddlebags. I need to change, I need a bath, and I need some food. I got up and rang the bell. Within a few minutes, a young boy had arrived at the doorway. He was maybe twelve summers, thirteen at most. The boy had big blue eyes and straw coloured hair. He was slim and had an honest little face. He bowed most charmingly and asked, "My lady? Did you ring?"  
  
"Yes." I said, getting up, "Would you please tell me the way to the stables? I arrived here today and my saddlebags are still down there."  
  
"My lady, would you be Lady Ariaelle of Imladris?" he asked, his wide eyes on my elven dress. They strayed to my pointed ears and I tilted my head sideways.  
  
"Yes. Actually I am." I said, a little surprised.  
  
"Oh, my lady, your brother brought your bags to his own chambers." He said.  
  
"Really? Whyever did he do that?" I asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Well, my lady, he and Lord Mariol were waiting for you in the stables. But you didn't come." He explained.  
  
"I see." I paused. "Where would they be now?"  
  
The boy looked momentarily confused by my question, but grasped the meaning, "In the fifth circle, my lady. I could get them for you." He offered.  
  
I pondered his answer, but thought better of it. There were many valuables in there, from jewelry to robes to my mother's portrait. "No, it's all right. Would you please tell me how to get there.and to my brother's chambers?"  
  
"Of course, my lady." He said.  
  
But before he could begin, I cut in, "What is your name?"  
  
"My name? Oh.err.Eladion," he stammered.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Realising that I had cued him to start, he began. "Well, ah, get out of this corridor the way you came in. And then turn right, you should still be on the outside of the circle. Keep walking until you see a set of stairs on your right. These are long and wide stairs, not the small alley ones. There are many alley ones, but you must not mistake those for the circle's main stairs." I nodded. "Go up those stairs. At the top, turn to your right and keep that way until you see the banner of the White Tree. Not the Stars. That's where one of the Steward's sons reside." I swallowed.  
  
Eladion, misreading it, said, "Well the Steward's other son lives on the other side of the White Tree, but his chambers have a different way to go in." I frowned. "Anyhow, at the White Tree, turn left and find a door. The door with a star. Now, the Steward's son's door is also marked with a star because the one your brother resides in was the Steward's son's room when he was much younger, or so my father says." I nodded and he finished. "Well, those are your brother's chambers. And he's very lucky to have such a nice room."  
  
"Thank you again, Eladion." I smiled.  
  
He bowed, "Would you like anything else, my lady?"  
  
"Some dinner, it doesn't really matter what, and.someone who could draw a bath for me." He blushed and nodded.  
  
"I'll go get someone to do that." I smiled gratefully and went out into the hall.  
  
I thought about how the conversation started and was struck by a sudden question. "Eladion? How did you know about my saddlebags?"  
  
"Oh, um.I'm one of the stable boys too." He said.  
  
"Mmm.I see." I nodded.  
  
"I'll go get the food then, my lady?" he asked, turning around.  
  
"Yes, please do."  
  
And with that he went off down the hall and I went the other way. Out the door I went.  
  
Into the clear, starlit night. 


	4. Stars

Author's note: Hurray! I wrote this quick 'cause I had to put it down. I'm putting it out now. This chapter is a little shorter than the others but I think that this one has some important things that will show up as we keep moving on the story. I got two more reviews! Thanks very much to you guys for taking the time to send one in! Your encouragement means more than you think! (In other words, send in another one!) Enjoy chapter 4 because 5 won't be far behind.  
  
Stars  
  
I ventured into the night. The chilly breeze blew gently. My hair whipped back and my dress rippled. I kept walking. Thinking.  
I thought that he had seen. Boromir. The way that he had locked his eyes to mine. The way he looked different when he left. Was it my imagination? Did he really see? I couldn't, wouldn't have let him. But it had happened, more than once.  
  
When I was younger, I used to make my brother cry. I'd only looked at him for a moment, but then he'd burst out, bawling. My mother and father didn't understand. Finally, when they could get my brother to sit calmly, he'd said that he saw a young man. The young man was surrounded by orcs. The orcs were stabbing him. The man screamed and screamed, and he could not make out the words, but he knew that the man's last words were: "For Gondor, for Gondor!"  
  
He was scared of me. My parents suspected something. I didn't know why this happened. I had seen the young man too. I had seen him die. We lived in Rivendell, so the most obvious thing to do was to see Lord Elrond. He watched me when he thought I didn't notice. We met on multiple occasions. I told him about what I liked to do besides studying. He knew that I wanted to be a warrior. I had asked him many times to tell my father so. But he would just say that it was my father's authority to choose what I was allowed to do. He talked to me and told me some things about himself. But still, I was unhappy.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
After dinner, one evening, most of the Elves went to sing and dance. I lingered behind, afraid to join them. Lord Elrond, to my surprise, asked me to dance with him, so I did. He taught me some of the simple patterns. As I looked up to thank him, he saw.  
  
He saw his death.  
  
I saw it too. It was sorrowful, and yet, very abstract. It wasn't as straight and cold as my brother's. It was more like something that fades away. I was shocked. He was a little shocked also. We made quite a scene, him taking me aside before the end of the song. When he asked me to recollect what I had seen, I just cried.  
  
From then on, my father didn't love me as much. He saw me as some sort of freak. I wanted him to love me like he loved my mother and brother. I cursed myself. I cursed the secret my eyes held.  
  
I could show you how you died.  
  
Who wanted that? Who wanted to see such sad and horrible things? Who wanted to hurt someone who hadn't hurt you? Who wanted to be scared every time you spoke to someone? Who wanted to be shunned because of something they could not control?  
  
Who wanted to be me?  
  
I pondered these thoughts and sighed aloud, closing my eyes. I stopped and looked around. The moon was setting, its crescent dipping into the mountains to the West. To the East, the fires of Mordor blared incessantly. They evoked a sudden fear and worry in me. What if the Free Peoples did not unite? Could we risk war? The elves could not help Men, they would be sailing off soon. My choice would come.  
  
My thoughts wandered back to myself. Alright, I wasn't hideous. I might even be bold enough to say that I'm a fair lass. I was old and young enough to be a man's wife. But who would want me? I was a half elf like Lord Elrond and his children. He had decided his race. I would have to decide mine soon. I didn't know how. Why hadn't I asked Lord Elrond how he did it?  
  
I shook my head. No use worrying. I'd have to decide soon enough. I sighed. If I became an elf, it would already be time to sail into the West. If I chose to be of the race of Men, I would die one day. Did I want too?  
  
I was worrying again. Alright, time to find that staircase. I looked around. Still on the outside of the circle, I observed the floor above, trying to find some way connecting the two circles. I didn't see one. Finally, I decided to check it out on foot some more. I sighed again, how much farther?  
  
I looked at one of the sentries who kept watch during the night. He stared off into space, taking no notice of me. I wandered closer to him but stopped. No. Don't ask. He might see. If I got sidetracked, he would see. I wouldn't let that happen.  
  
Feeling quite odd with myself, I trudged on. I peered at the buildings to my right. Okay, alley stairs, a door, and oh, another alley. After half an hour, I stopped in my tracks. The moon had set some time ago. My feet ached and I was frozen to the bone. I seemed to be nowhere near the staircase, wherever it was.  
  
I didn't want to turn back. To go back empty-handed seemed stupid. I cursed myself for no reason. To my right was a corridor. A light flickered in one of the doors. Maybe I could just ask them quickly. No eye contact. I started off, turning into the City.  
  
I walked quickly down the hall. Nothing. The light was gone. I thought I saw some movement to my right. I whirled around. Silence. The wind was tricking me. I went left and found myself facing a fork. I went right and kept walking.  
  
"Come on," I muttered. I turned right again. The wind chilled me. I ran, frightened. I was lost. I kept running and running. Finally, I slowed to a stop. I needed to rest. Panting, I put a hand out to brace myself against a column. I leaned against it, trying to catch my breath.  
  
I looked around. It was very dark and I took a few timid steps forward. A well. Some doors surrounding it. Stairs.  
  
Stairs! I hurried up the narrow steps to my left. At the top, I stopped, frowning. A corridor snaked before me. It was lit by torches and farther on, the corridor forked. I hurried down the beginnings of the corridor. When I reached the fork, I turned left. I kept going but skidded to a stop. A star. The door had a star etched into the wood. My brother's chambers! I could barely believe my luck.  
  
I knocked.  
  
"Enter." Said a voice.  
  
It wasn't my brother. 


	5. Faramir

Author's note: Hey, how is everyone? Hectic week. Hope you enjoy Chapter 5! Chapter 6 has been planned already and it won't be too far behind. Please keep reviewing! And thanks to all those who've kept reading! If you're looking for more packed action, keep reading because it'll come. Battles and all that. Not far behind.  
  
Faramir  
  
I swallowed. 'Twas not my brother behind that door, I thought. It couldn't be. The voice was so much more different. Deeper. Graver. And yet, it sounded more kind.  
  
Oh no. Eladion. He'd said that there was also another chamber with an etched star. It belonged to one of the Steward's sons. Oh no, what if it was Boromir? Or even worse, Faramir?  
  
I pushed open the door and my worst fears were confirmed. For there stood Faramir of Gondor. In his hand, he held some papers. His face gave away a bemused expression. He tilted his head to one side.  
  
"Did Boromir leave you stranded in some alley?" he asked with a serious expression.  
  
Not understanding the question, I said, "No, my lord."  
  
He strode over and opened the door wider. He gestured to the room. "Come inside." He said.  
  
"Oh, I'd don't think I should, my lord." I shook my head. Whoever heard of the Son of the Steward inviting a lady into his chambers, in the middle of the night, without a proper chaperone? People would talk.  
  
He sighed and rang the bell, which was situated like the one in my room. "Will you come in now." He asked.  
  
I suppressed a giggle. He was just so charismatic. His soldier like clothing from earlier in the night was replaced with dark breeches and a cuffed white shirt. His brown hair had been hastily combed but his eyes shone nevertheless.  
  
"If you insist, my lord." I said.  
  
"I do."  
  
I stepped inside his room. He kept the door opened for whoever he had called. Faramir put the papers he had been holding onto his desk. It faced a window which overlooked the fields of the Pelennor. His desk had a fair amount of papers, bottles of ink and multiple quills.  
  
I frowned, "I apologize if I disturbed you, my lord."  
  
He waved a hand, "No, no, I was just writing poetry."  
  
Poetry? The son of the Steward of Gondor: writing poetry? Shouldn't he have been working on archery or mapping, or the blade arts? I must have looked stunned, because he continued, "Boromir looks just like that when I tell him about my latest compositions."  
  
A guilty feeling plagued me, "I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to offend you."  
  
"It's true. Few young men would choose to write poetry instead of going to war. It is also true that I am one of those few."  
  
I didn't like the way this conversation was going. It seemed uncomfortable for him too. I turned the subject around. "My lord, I really cannot stay. I'm really sorry for what happened earlier this evening. If there is any way I could make amends." I trailed off.  
  
He nodded curtly, "It's fine. I'm sorry about pushing the table at you like that. I lost control of my feelings."  
  
I cast my eyes down, "I should go now."  
  
"Ah yes." He said.  
  
At that moment, a soldier about the same age as Faramir appeared at the door, out of breath.  
  
"Sorry, Captain. I heard you. But the.my lord, are you busy." He looked from me to Faramir and back again.  
  
"No, no, Mablung. This is Lady Ariaelle of Imladris. My lady, this is Mablung, second in command of the Ithilien Rangers." Mablung bowed and I curtseyed. "Mablung, three glasses of wine for the three of us? Red wine?"  
  
"My lord," I interrupted, "Like I said, I must go soon. You really mustn't go to the trouble of.all this. I have food waiting in my room anyhow."  
  
But he would not back down. He said nothing but gestured to Mablung to close the door.  
  
Mablung raised an eyebrow, "My lord, what." A wave of Faramir's hand silenced him and he went off to get the drinks.  
  
He pulled up a chair for me and I sat. One, I enjoyed his company so much I didn't want to ever leave. Two, I needed to get those saddlebags.  
  
Three, they might see.  
  
And now there were two people. The possibility of seeing will have been doubled. It would be just too risky.  
  
Faramir brought a blanket over and set it around my shoulders. He was so close that I began to tremble. The concentration was unbearable.  
  
"Are you alright? I really want you to stay but if you really want to leave you're free to go. I'm very sorry about telling you what to do like that. It's not like me. It's- " I had the impression he was going to say it was about his headache. The guilty feeling stabbed me until I couldn't fight back.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You really shouldn't go out in that state of dress. It's far too cold."  
  
"I'm fine." Was my only reply.  
  
Apparently, I'd used the wrong tone of voice. I didn't mean it. Really. He stepped back and pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.  
  
Faramir sighed. "I'm sorry, my lady. But could I ask you one more thing?"  
  
"My lord, don't apologize. It's me who should be doing that. I didn't mean it to be like that. I'm just really-" I paused, "Well, I'm just tired." To tell the truth, I was so stressed out, I could barely breathe.  
  
He nodded, "What did Boromir mean? About your eyes?"  
  
A cold feeling swept through me. Oh no, he's asked. What do I do?  
  
And I made the damned mistake of looking up to answer him.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
I tried desperately to move my eyes away. But wherever my eyes flitted, his followed curiously. Finally, they locked and I could no longer move.  
  
I shuddered as the vision came to me. It was as cold as ice. I fought it. But there was no way I could stop it from coming. Finally, it filled my mind. I gasped.  
  
And he saw.  
  
The vision left, leaving me weak. I shook once more and fell. He bounded up and caught me quickly. I was still trembling but he held me closer to him.  
  
For a long moment he stood there, bent over me, arms enfolding me.  
  
Mablung arrived finally. "I'm sorry it took so-" With a shocked expression, he put all three glasses on the shelf. "Captain?" he began.  
  
"She's hurt and she could faint any minute. Help me put her on the bed." Faramir replied calmly.  
  
The room spun and I held tighter onto Faramir. He stiffened. He gently tried to unwrap my arms from him. I was scared. Would he let me go? Push me away?  
  
"Let go." He said softly. "I've got you."  
  
I had no choice but to do as he said and he caught me and picked me up. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in my head and I fought to stifle a cry of pain. Faramir tightened his arms around my knees and shoulders as though he were afraid he would drop me.  
  
Mablung had pulled the covers off the bed. Faramir put me gently in the midst of them and quickly covered me with the blankets.  
  
Too weak to resist, I let him finish tucking me in. I could do nothing but shiver and tremble every two minutes. He looked concernedly at me, unsure of whether I would just pass out. He looked like he wanted me to pass out, instead of knowing what I felt like now. He bent down and touched my cheek. He then put a hand above my slightly parted lips. Satisfied, he spoke to Mablung.  
  
"A light blanket, if you would." He said.  
  
Mablung only nodded and hurried away. Faramir frowned and turned once again to me. His calm eyes were comforting but I could barely feel anything. The edges of my vision blurred again. And again. I shuddered and he put a hand on my forehead.  
  
My vision cleared. For the moment.  
  
"Go to sleep. You're in no shape for talking." I merely blinked. And then it hit me.  
  
I was in the Steward's son's room, having arrived in the middle of the night. And now I'm sleeping in his bed? I mean, how insane was that? If Father ever found out, or even brother?  
  
He unclasped a chain from his neck. My vision had become blurry again so I could not figure out what sort of pendant hung from it. He dropped it onto my palm, put his hand in mine and closed his eyes. After a moment, he murmured a few words in perfect Sindarin.  
  
My vision dulled and I blinked wearily. Closing my eyes, I sunk into dreams.  
  
Into dreams. 


	6. The Pendants

Author's note: I am so sorry for taking so long to put Chapter 6 up! The idea was all set, but I never had any time to finish the actual writing. A new fanfic, which corresponds with 'Red Dawn', in Faramir's POV. Oh I'm so excited! The plot's been set for the beginning journey (yes, you're only at the very beginning). There will be twists. In fact, Chapter 7 should be a real shocker! So enjoy and please keep reviewing! Your encouragement is invaluable!  
  
The Pendants  
  
My eyelids fluttered as I awoke. Remembering where I was, I sighed before I was aware that someone else was in the room.  
  
Faramir was sitting on a chair beside me. His eyes were closed as he spoke his perfect Sindarin. I frowned and realised that he had put his hand in mine like earlier. Only now, he had two fingers of his other hand pushing firmly on my pulse. He kept speaking as though he were not aware that I was awake.  
  
I did not move but listened to his accent. He would have passed for an elf, I thought. The way his words blended into each other musically. His tone changed as he began to end the healing.  
  
"So it shall be." He murmured in Elvish and took his fingers off my pulse and opened his eyes. He suddenly looked very tired. Faramir was sweating and it was obvious that he'd lost a lot of energy. Oh no, he was doing the energy transfer. I was able to transfer a little but nothing that would save someone. My pendant wouldn't allow it. He took his hand off my palm and picked up the necklace that rested in my hand. I tried to raise myself so I could speak.  
  
But Faramir would have none of it. "Don't talk. Don't explain." He said. He poured a glass of water and put a hand behind my head and tilted it forward. He put the glass to my lips and I sipped a little. I stopped.  
  
"It's just water." he muttered unconvincingly.  
  
I swallowed another gulp and finished the rest without resisting. Faramir didn't seem to be the type that would poison little elf-girls. He put the glass down and gently laid my head back down on the pillow.  
  
"Now you can talk if you want." He said. He looked around for a spare glass but finding none, he tried to get up. That seemed to use a great effort and he leaned heavily on the chair, trying to catch his breath.  
  
I finally succeeded in sitting upright. "Are you all right, my lord?" I asked tentatively.  
  
He nodded and walked off to a cabinet in the adjoining room. After a good deal of clanking and banging, he returned. Pouring a glass of water, like he did mine, he downed it in one gulp.  
  
Whoa. What's going on? Why was he so tired? The energy transfer? It must be. I took the necklace from the bedside counter and fingered the pendant.  
  
He seemed to not want me to touch it but was too tired to stop me. I was still staring at it.  
  
The tiny cylinder was filled with powder. The colour of the powder meant your level as a healer. It was a healer's charm and all healers had one. Bronze powder if you were a plain healer. Silver powder if you were an advanced healer. And gold if you were an exceptionally distinguished healer. Very few had the privilege to hold the gold powder. Black powder was a symbol of "better than the level".  
  
Bronze-Black was if you were not as low as a bronze and not yet ready for silver. There were also Silver-Black and Gold-Black. Lord Elrond's charm was of only black powder. He was the only one in Middle-Earth to have such a powerful charm. I was a Bronze-Black.  
  
This cylinder charm was covered with the design of the White Tree. Its branches wrapped protectively around the charm. There were stars etched over the caps of the powder cylinder. It was elegantly completed with a silver chain of mithril.  
  
I looked up at him.  
  
"My lord?" I inquired.  
  
"Hmm?" he looked from his charm to me.  
  
"It's..well..you're a Silver-Black? I mean, that's only one step away from Gold. Who's your master?" I asked. "If I may ask," I said hurriedly.  
  
He looked at me for a long moment, "Lord Elrond."  
  
"Lord Elrond." I repeated.  
  
"Well, Lord Elrond tried to teach my father who would become the future Steward, but my father did not wish to learn the art of healing. He gave the pendant to my mother, who gave it to me. Boromir wanted it too, so my father persuaded Mother to give it to him. After the first bit of training, he gave it to me. And I've changed the pendant from Bronze, which is where it was in the first place." He said.  
  
At the end, he drew a sharp breath and relaxed. I put the pendant back down on the counter.  
  
He nodded at it, "Do you have one."  
  
"Yes." I said, "Bronze-Black."  
  
"That's a good start."  
  
We were going in circles. I was still haunted by the vision of Faramir's death. He did not ask but I knew that he wanted to. I didn't answer him but paused. The tension was horribly tight. I frowned slightly.  
  
"I suppose you'd like an explanation then, my lord." I began.  
  
He looked at me intently. Then, he sat down on the chair and fingered the cup.  
  
"I'm not forcing you to do anything." He stated.  
  
I nodded. Yes, he had a right to know. I mean, how often does a little elf-girl show you how you die and then faint right in your bedchamber?  
  
"How much did you see?" I asked. If he saw only a little, I might be able to change the facts and save myself.  
  
"I noticed that you never looked up at me. And when you did, you averted my eyes. I didn't know what was going on, so I followed. And then-" he stopped.  
  
"So you saw it all." I said.  
  
What if he was afraid for the kingdom? Would he send me back to Rivendell? Would he have me executed in Minas Tirith? Horrific thoughts poked me doubtfully.  
  
"Yes." He said.  
  
"I." I began and stopped.  
  
"You don't have to continue." He said reassuringly. I smiled faintly.  
  
"I was born and raised in Imladris." He nodded, "When I was younger, they found out that I had..this problem. I could see..how someone would die. It only happens when I have eye-contact and the person had never seen before. But sometimes it doesn't happen. Sometimes I can speak to someone with eye contact. I've never tried to figure out the circumstances that must take place before someone sees. I don't want this to happen again. Lord Elrond said..that it cannot be cured by him. He said that maybe there was someone who could..but, I doubt that."  
  
Someone knocked. I looked up at the door.  
  
"Who is it?" asked Faramir.  
  
"Mablung, sir."  
  
"Come in."  
  
Mablung opened the door slowly. "Lord Boromir wishes to see you, Captain."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"As soon as you can, he says." He replied.  
  
"All right." He said, "Do you have anything to do?"  
  
"Yes, my lord, but it can wait."  
  
"I'll be able to find my brother's chambers on my own, so run along." Faramir made a shooing gesture to Mablung.  
  
The soldier looked at me and back to his commanding officer. With a small grin, he shut the door and left.  
  
"Do you want to come with me?" he asked. To me, it sounded like a command, though I doubt he meant it to sound so.  
  
"Yes, my lord." I replied.  
  
I needed some fresh air anyway. But..wait..Boromir, he hasn't seen yet. What if..  
  
"Good." He said, interrupting my thoughts. "I have your bags here." He gestured to the saddlebags leaning against the wall. I blinked.  
  
"Thank you, my lord." I murmured.  
  
He smiled. "Now I'll leave so you can change into something else. The bathroom is over there. I didn't touch anything." He said, meaning my belongings.  
  
"Thank you." I said again.  
  
He got up, "Do you need help?"  
  
"Let me see.." I swung my legs slowly over the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the cool carpet. I stood, lost my balance, and plopped back down onto the bed.  
  
Faramir chuckled, "Take it easy." He helped me back standing and waited until he thought I was sure-footed enough to take a few steps. I did and he nodded approvingly.  
  
Striding over, Faramir slid on a tunic with the White Tree emblem. He buckled on a cape and frowned as he turned back to me. I stiffened. Was I supposed to have turned my face away? He was changing, of course, but he still had sufficient clothing on in the first place, right? Faramir came back and took the healing pendant from the counter. He put in on and underneath the rest of his clothing.  
  
Finally, he sighed. "I'll be outside the door. If you need help, just say something. Loud."  
  
"Yes, my lord." I said.  
  
He slipped out the door and shut it. I stood there for about five seconds without moving. Shaking my head, I went over to my belongings and unpacked. Underclothing. Hair accessories. Necklaces. I rummaged for my pendant and found it. The bronze powder mingled with the black as I tilted it back and forth. Glinting in the afternoon sun, the pendant shone. I put it down on the ground and took out one of my elven dresses. Should I wear the purple, or the wine red? Nah, too dinner-like. Perhaps the forest green? It would match Faramir's attire. Okay, forest green dress and..gloves? No, no gloves. Ah..silk slippers? Nah.  
  
My hand touched a cool surface. I took out the leather case which enveloped my flute. Pulling the leather material away, I touched the smooth surface of the instrument. It had been my mother's flute. I put the instrument to my lips and played a gentle tune of the sea. Unexpected tears flooded my eyes. I deftly returned the flute to my saddlebags and took up my clothing. I made my way to the washroom, closed and bolted the door, and observed myself in the mirror.  
  
I undressed quickly and pulled on the new gown. I tied the cords at the back. One knot. Two. Three. It was tight enough, but not so much that I could not breathe. I'd never had attendants and doubted that I ever would. Running a brush through my thick, raven hair, I became aware of all the time I'd spent here. Faramir was waiting outside. What was I thinking? Getting all upset, and playing my flute? He must think there's something wrong with me.  
  
But there was something wrong with me.  
  
Extremely angry for my lack of concentration, I tightened the cords at my wrists. I put on my healing charm and stalked out, taking everything that belonged to me. Putting everything back into my saddlebags and trying to compose myself, I neared the door.  
  
And I stepped outside. 


	7. Secrets

Author's note: Here's the shocker! Now, steady on, if you don't think it's shocking enough. The plot layout of the next few chapters is done, I only have to write them. 'Past and Remembered', an epic in Faramir's point of view (corresponding with 'Red Dawn') is just getting started. The reviews are great! I'm getting a few more than usual, thanks! Now hang on tight to your special someone, or more likely, the armrests of your chair and read on! I'm still with you!  
  
Secrets  
  
Faramir had his back to me, but turned around when he heard the opening of the door. He looked at me for a long moment.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked slowly.  
  
I nodded and swallowed. What did I do now?  
  
"I thought something had gone wrong with the healing..or ..oh, well, as long as you're feeling all right." He continued.  
  
He closed the door and locked it. Replacing the keys in a pouch at his belt, he started off. Like the night before, I followed, three paces behind. As though Faramir had been Boromir, he said, "Don't fall back. Stay up front. Right here." He waved his right hand at a spot beside him.  
  
Without protesting, I moved in next to him. He nodded approvingly and we walked on in silence.  
  
Finally, "So, you're also a flutist, I believe."  
  
Blushing, I replied with: "Yes, my lord."  
  
"You play well."  
  
"Thank you, my lord."  
  
My words were followed by a short period of silence.  
  
I mustered my courage and asked, "Do you play music too, my lord?"  
  
"Bugle and horn, of course, but also the harp and violin."  
  
"That's quite a bit, my lord." I said in astonishment.  
  
My legs suddenly felt weak. As Faramir said, I 'fell back'. He stopped his measured paces and with a look of concern, put a hand on my shoulder. I swayed and he put a hand out behind my back to catch me if I fell.  
  
"Kneel." He said, and took off his charm again. "Do you feel faint? Dizzy?" I shook my head and made no move to go down.  
  
"Do you want to go back?" I shook my head once more.  
  
"It's all right. I'm fine now. Really." Warily, he eyed my cheeks for any sign of paleness.  
  
"You don't have to come. If you do not feel well, it's nothing to be ashamed of." He said quietly.  
  
"Like I said, sir," I emphasized the word. "I'm all right. I need to exercise too."  
  
All serious, he said, "All right, but don't stress yourself. Hear me?"  
  
I nodded nonchalantly and walked a little ahead of him. It was obnoxious of me, but I could not show him any weakness whatsoever. It was enough that I'd shown him last night. He didn't need anymore.  
  
"Over here." He muttered and opened a door. Up narrow stairs we went, and I wondered whether this was some sort of secret passage.  
  
At last, we entered a level corridor and he said, "We're in the Citadel."  
  
I could only stare. The Citadel? Only the Steward and important individuals were allowed in its secret halls. The rest stayed in the court halls, or wandered elsewhere in the White City.  
  
Faramir paused and turned left for a moment. He looked at me.  
  
I was caught with a sudden notion that if I went into Boromir's chambers, something bad would happen. He would see. For sure.  
  
As if Faramir could read my mind, he asked, "Do you wish to come in?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but I..do not wish to go. I'll just wait outside."  
  
"Do you want me to inform Boromir that you're here?"  
  
"No, just ignore me. I'm not here."  
  
He gently touched my shoulder again, "Is there something bothering you?"  
  
"I don't want it to happen again. No one deserves it."  
  
Comprehending, he said, "I won't be long."  
  
He knocked at the door. "Boromir," he said softly, "It's me."  
  
I watched as he entered swiftly without looking back at me. As he shut the door, I sighed quietly in relief. I leaned against the wall next to the door.  
  
Without thinking, I began to listen to the brothers within. I was afraid that Faramir would secretly tell Boromir to protect him. Not that I could blame him in any way.  
  
"Where were you last night?" Boromir was speaking.  
  
"Lady Ariaelle was ill."  
  
"Why did you not take her to the Houses of Healing instead?"  
  
"She was asleep."  
  
"In your chamber."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Faramir, don't do that again."  
  
"I did nothing."  
  
"Nothing..with her."  
  
"Of course not!" Faramir sounded angry.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. No, Faramir, you don't do things like that, I should have known. Forgive me."  
  
Faramir seemed to accept his apology. "It's all right."  
  
Boromir sighed, "I need to tell you something, brother." There was urgency burrowed in his voice.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You must swear, on your honor, never to speak of this to anyone."  
  
Faramir sounded concerned. "Boromir-"  
  
"Just swear it."  
  
"I swear on my honor as Faramir, son of Denethor, Soldier of Gondor and Captain of the Ithilien Rangers that I shall not speak of what is spoken here."  
  
There was silence.  
  
And then, "Father..hasn't been doing enough to stop Mordor's forces. He's sent your Rangers and the soldiers to Osgiliath over and over again. We're trying to hold them back, but, like you know, it's virtually impossible. Not enough men. Every legion he sends will go to their deaths.  
  
"He sends me to defend Osgiliath," Boromir continued, "and never represents Gondor himself. What sort of ruler is that? He's afraid, Faramir. He sends us instead and would rather have us die and himself safe. When was the last time he rode out? When did he ever lead Gondor's army? It's never happened, Faramir, and it never will."  
  
Faramir's voice was soft, "Boromir, you're speaking treason. Father-"  
  
"Is a coward." Finished the older son of the Steward. "I'm going to stop him before the White City is taken and Gondor falls. I'm going to make sure the White Tree will always fly on Minas Tirith. I'm going to be the Steward of Gondor."  
  
A sudden fear flooded me. What was going on? Why was Boromir saying these things? What would Faramir do? What will I do?  
  
From what I had heard, Boromir only wished to take the throne for himself, probably because of impatience, but he could just advise his father instead, right? He had already a worthy position and was virtually known everywhere in Gondor as the Son of the Steward and heir to the throne of Gondor.  
  
"Boromir," breathed Faramir, "Father loves you. He-"  
  
"I know he does." Boromir said.  
  
"But why?"  
  
"For Gondor."  
  
"Boromir," he said again.  
  
"Are you with or against me?" Asked the older brother.  
  
There was another uncomfortable silence.  
  
Faramir cleared his throat, "Give me some time, please."  
  
"I will then."  
  
"Thank you, brother." He said, so low that I could barely hear him.  
  
It was then that I'd realized that I'd heard some of the most treasonous things a Gondorian could say. And the person who said it was Gondor's own heir. What would I do? Tell his father? I couldn't..yet. And Faramir..he would know that I'd heard.  
  
I could hear footsteps nearing the door.  
  
I gasped.  
  
And there was a silence, so strained, it felt like the incessant blaring of trumpets in my ear. 


	8. Discovery

Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews! They're so encouraging! I hope this chapter's okay. The PG-13 theme's been stirred a bit. It's not offensive, I hope, but if it is, just drop a review! The first chapter of 'Past and Remembered' has been posted. If you don't remember, that's Faramir's point of view. Thanks for reading and stay for Chapter 9 and beyond.  
  
Discovery  
  
I backed away from the door and stood away. Faramir opened the door and strode out. Turning to close the door, he noticed me. His lips parted in silent surprise. Swiftly, he shut the door and turned his full attention to me.  
  
He approached me and I avoided him again. Faramir stopped mid-step and sighed. He put a hand on his forehead for a long moment.  
  
Finally, "How much did you hear?"  
  
My lips parted and closed again without speaking. I shook my head. The effort of containing all this and my state of recovery, made it difficult to think.  
  
Faramir had the gift of reading a person's heart. He knew what I'd done. He knew that I'd heard everything.  
  
"Shall we go back?" he asked softly.  
  
I nodded.  
  
He led the way back down the Citadel stairs and I followed. I stole a couple looks at him. His eyes were confused, afraid, in distress. A frown creased his brow.  
  
We entered his chamber once again. He stopped near the desk and faced me. I kept my eyes downcast, afraid to speak.  
  
"My lady, it is about time you returned to your chambers. I'm really sorry for this act of rashness, but it is truly inappropriate for you to be here with me." He said suddenly, becoming the stern and dutiful soldier of Gondor.  
  
"Yes, I believe so, my lord." I said tartly and went to fetch my saddlebags.  
  
He followed me. As I bent down to pick one up, he touched my hand.  
  
"I'll do it." he said.  
  
"No, it's perfectly fine, my lord. I can do this myself." I said obstinately.  
  
His change of mood made me angry. I thought he was a kind and gentle person, not easily fooled by his father or brother. But I was wrong. He was no different from a common soldier. He fought and killed orcs and pleased young ladies.  
  
He seemed taken aback, "I must insist, my lady." He said.  
  
I slung the bag on my back and made a mental note to commend my steed for carry this luggage and I on his back for such a long journey. Faramir stopped me as I neared the door.  
  
"With your condition, you won't make it very far." He stated.  
  
I was no longer the pretty flower of the night before. "My lord, I am very capable of handling myself and my belongings." I edged closer to the door, the sack weighing heavily at my shoulder.  
  
He frowned, "My lady, have I displeased you in some way?"  
  
The room swirled and I backed up in dismay. My legs felt weak and my arms numb. Firm hands took the saddlebag off and caught me around the waist. I leaned into him as he lowered my weakened body. I sat on the floor, still dizzy.  
  
"I told you." He murmured, and put two fingers near my temple. My vision cleared like the night before.  
  
Quietly, he spoke a few words, making sure that I wouldn't faint for the time being. "Your healing wasn't finished. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."  
  
"It's a-all right." I said shakily.  
  
"You'll be fine for a short period of time. When you get back...you should rest."  
  
"Thank you." I said.  
  
I raised myself and stood. I reached for the bag but Faramir slung it cleverly onto himself.  
  
He smiled a little at my frustration and stubbornness and a fluttering feeling tickled my throat. Faramir swung he door open and waited for me to go through. I did, and he shut the door.  
  
"Here." He said, starting in one direction. I followed behind him. He looked back at me and said, "Come up here."  
  
I did and we walked on in silence. The bag didn't seem heavy for him. But he was a man of war. I doubted that weapons were light, especially if they weren't elven-made.  
  
We went down stairs and he asked, "Your room is in the fourth circle, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
"Good." He sighed, and turned left. Finally, we reached my chambers.  
  
He opened it and was a little shocked at who he found inside.  
  
My father and brother.  
  
"My lord." They said in unison.  
  
Faramir nodded. "Please rise."  
  
They did. I noticed that my father seemed relieved, and angry at the same time. My brother eyed me curiously.  
  
"Well," Faramir said, "I guess I'll leave you here."  
  
I nodded and curtseyed. He handed the bag to me and strode back down the hall. I went into the room and shut the door.  
  
"What were you doing last night?" said Mariol, his voice edging upward slightly.  
  
"I was..." I trailed off. What would I say? That I had shown him?  
  
I couldn't, not to my father. He already hated me. What use was it to badger him some more?  
  
"You were with the Steward's son, eh?"  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
"Don't you know that he's Ithilien's Captain?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"Valar, girl, what is wrong with you." Mariol's temper soared.  
  
I backed up, confused and afraid. What was going on? Why was he so angry? What did I do?  
  
"I...was just-"  
  
He cut me off, "You brother knows what you were doing. How dare you!"  
  
"Father, what-"  
  
"Don't you dare pretend you don't know what's going on!" he yelled.  
  
"But I have no idea-"  
  
"First, you insist on following me to the other men. Then you sneak off to be with the Steward's son! I didn't know you were like this. I didn't know. But now I do! You were planning this during our ride. You were so distraught, you had no idea what you were doing. But now I know why! How dare you? You are my daughter and I'll have to tell the Steward about this. Have you no idea what shame you have brought to our family?"  
  
I was bewildered, "Father, what are you talking about?"  
  
Mariol nearly exploded, "What did you do, you say? Were you drunk? Or was it just your dirty mind?" He advanced, coming towards me. I backed up, until the wall blocked my way.  
  
"You still have no idea what's going on!" he bellowed, and I flinched, "You went off with the Steward's son, to his chambers! And you stayed there all night!"  
  
Realization dawned upon me, Father thought the same of me as Boromir thought of his brother. He'd thought I slept with Faramir.  
  
"I didn't, Father!" I protested.  
  
"You disgusting girl! Filth!" he screeched. Tears started from my eyes. Tears of anger. I was angry at him. How dare he think I was brothel girl?  
  
"You bring us all shame!" he hollered, and the tears turned into racking sobs. "I never want to see you again! You bring bad luck! First, your mother..." My sobs were uncontrollable at the mention of Mother.  
  
"I-I..." I tried to speak through the tears.  
  
"You kill her and hurt your brother. You brought us dishonor in Imladris. Will you do so again? Leave! I don't want to see your face again!"  
  
With that, he swung the door open and stormed out. My brother looked at me for a long moment, sympathetically. But he was a soldier now. And a soldier had his duty. He followed Father out and shut the door gently.  
  
Anger surged through me. I wept for a long while, unable to bring the tears to a halt. He blamed me for killing Mother. She had seen my secret and she had died during her appointed time. Brother had seen too, and he was still afraid of me. After Lord Elrond had found out what I could do, everyone in Rivendell avoided my family and I.  
  
What would I do now? I didn't dare go to court. Stay here? No. The servants would be coming soon. They'd see me. Leave Minas Tirith? Father told me to leave, but did he mean it?  
  
I was too angry and flustered to think of other things I could do instead. I scrambled to my forgotten saddlebags and rummaged through them. I was looking for the shirt and breeches I had taken from Imladris. I wasn't supposed to have them. No lady was. But if I was to leave disguised, this was how it would be. I changed quickly and tied up my dark hair in a modest bun. I covered it with a hat. I ventured into the bathroom and observed my boyish reflection.  
  
"Good." I said to no one in particular, except myself. I took the dagger and belt knife from the bottom of the saddlebag and put them on the bed. I pulled out the belt and put it on. I put on some gloves and attached the knives to my belt. I put my gown into the saddlebag and slung it onto my back.  
  
With one last look at my room, I strode outside. I rushed outside into the sunny afternoon. I looked around for someone to ask for directions. I went to one of the men standing on guard duty.  
  
"Excuse me." I said, and he turned around. It was the soldier Boromir spoke to, the night before.  
  
"Here to serve you, my lady." I gave him a small smile.  
  
"How would I get to the stables?"  
  
"I'll show you the shortcut." He pointed to a door with a golden horse carved into it. "Go down there and you'll be in the stables. It's the quickest route, but it's quite smelly. Is that all right? The long way will take a long time." I nodded.  
  
"Thank you very much."  
  
I went to the door and opened it. Quickly I slipped inside and was a little shocked at the pungent smell of manure. I went down the stairs. They never seemed to end. Down, down, down I went. And then straight forward, the corridor went.  
  
I emerged into the stables of Minas Tirith. 


	9. Escape

Author's note: Hey! The reviews are great, as usual. Keep sending them in! Chapter 10 will have more Faramir and Ariaelle. It's not the end yet, there's still a lot to come! Faramir's diary entry is in the fanfic 'Past and Remembered', if you want to check that out. Thanks for supporting my writing!  
  
Escape  
  
It was quiet except for the occasional snort of a bad tempered horse. To my surprise, the stables were not made of white stone, but of wood, in which intricate designs were laid. The stench of sweaty horses was overpowering and I rushed to my stallion. I was to leave immediately and would permit no delay.  
  
Briskly, I saddled Valiaen, pausing only to check whether my sword was still beneath his blanket. I had also taken that during my time in Imladris. My father and brother knew nothing of the stolen clothing and weapons.  
  
The sword hung in its scabbard, its plain hilt protruding from beneath the horse's blanket. I readjusted the saddle blanket and flung the saddlebags on top. Wiping my tear-stained cheek with my sleeve, I led Valiaen out of the stables.  
  
The guards barely noticed me as I left the White City. My clothing and appearance gave them the impression that I was just another wee lad.  
  
I rode out onto the fields of the Pelennor. Ushering Valiaen into a canter and then gallop, I enjoyed the feeling of freedom and the wind on my face. I had no sense of where I was going. I only knew that I wasn't going back.  
  
My father had never, ever loved me. He had never wanted to see how I felt about his actions. He accused me of everything unhappy that had befallen him since my birth. Since he discovered the secret in my eyes.  
  
The tears started again as my steed rushed on. The sun was setting, spreading an incandescent glow across the sky. Still, I rode on. Night followed and finally, I slowed Valiaen down.  
  
I dismounted and patted the horse. He blinked, enjoying it in a lazy manner. Gently, he nudged me on the shoulder. An elvish horse understood his master just as Valiaen understood me. He could sense my worry and discomfort. Softly, he nickered, and I turned away.  
  
It was then that I knew that I would have to go back. Sooner or later, I would have to return to the White City. I had no food, no shelter nor protection. I was lost. Perhaps I wouldn't be able to return on my own.  
  
I glanced around and frowned. I was surrounded by forest. How long had it been since I passed the fields? Where had I ventured? I was too upset to notice my own foolishness.  
  
I hurried back to Valiaen. He was munching on various plants, taking care to choose only the tasty plants unmarked by territory markers. When he noticed my arrival, he took an extra large mouthful, so I would have to wait if I decided to mount. I didn't want to hurt his stomach. He snorted when I only patted his soft nose and made no move to remount.  
  
"What do I do now?" I asked him softly.  
  
After some thoughtful chewing, he butted me playfully in the stomach. I laughed and hugged him tightly. He snorted again.  
  
"What did that mean?" I said.  
  
Ignoring me, he proceeded to eat all the foliage around him. I looked around. Night had fallen and it was nearly dark. I could barely see my way through the forest.  
  
Should I set up camp? Would it attract attention? Who would notice? Would anyone? I decided that I'd make a small fire and rest until dawn. Then, I would head back to Minas Tirith. It sounded like a good plan, except for the fact that I would have to face my father again.  
  
Did he even care that I was gone? Did he even notice?  
  
I unsaddled Valiaen and put the bags and saddle against a tree. I told him to stay put while I collected some dry wood for a fire. As I wandered off, I thought I heard a small noise. Ignoring it, I picked up a few sticks and returned to my mount.  
  
I laid the logs in the dirt and picked up two stones. I struck one against the other. At length, a fire sparked. Gently, I blew to help it grow. Then, I backed away and prodded it with a long stick.  
  
"Valiaen," I said softly. He trotted towards me and I stood. I touched his bridle. "I'm going to leave this on. Is that all right with you?" The bit wasn't comfortable for a horse, but the elvish style was easier on the pressure. He nickered and I heard the noise again.  
  
And then I heard a bird call. It was answered. I spun around, trying to find the source of the sound. In panic, I grabbed the bags roughly and set them on Valiaen. Well trained, he stood still, not even tempted by the lush grass. I saddled him as quickly as possible and kicked the firewood. The flames dissipated almost immediately. I mounted and urged Valiaen into a soft walk.  
  
Another call to my right. And another to my left. Valiaen sped up. My surroundings whirled before me. I hadn't rested, as Faramir had said. Perhaps these were the effects he had tried to put to a standstill.  
  
Suddenly, Valiaen reared and pawed the air in front of him. I gasped and nearly fell off. When I had gained control of him, he calmed down on all fours.  
  
I stopped him and patted his flanks. He was turning his head anxiously from side to side. I tried to calm myself down. But it was no use, I was bathed in sweat and feeling chilled. I couldn't think straight.  
  
Without warning, a cold voice came from the shadows. "What business do you seek in Ithilien?"  
  
Valiaen backed up and through the little light, I could see the Rangers dressed in hue. All bows were strung and all arrows pointed to Valiaen and I.  
  
"What business do you seek here?" said the voice again. Most Rangers pulled a little tighter on their weapons, ready to let them loose.  
  
Finally, I succumbed to the calls of the dark. I slipped off Valiaen and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.  
  
And all went dark as I passed out.  
  
***************************************************  
  
I awoke with a start to find myself in a comfortable bed and white sheets. I was in a small room, much like Faramir's room in the White City. It was quite cool and I was thankful for all the blankets. A desk sat forgotten to my right. To my left was an adjoining room. There were many books on shelves and on the desk were scattered parchments, quills and ink.  
  
I pushed myself into an upright position. "Hello?" I said softly.  
  
There was no answer. I turned my senses to an alert stage. I wasn't to be fooled again.  
  
Where were the Rangers? I couldn't be in Minas Tirith. The atmosphere was so much more hidden and secretive. Minas Tirith was more of a crowded place.  
  
I no longer felt dizzy but quite happy and content for no reason. Maybe I was going mad. Why would I be happy? For all I knew, this could be a prisoner's cell.  
  
I checked myself for anything they might have done to me. My healer's pendant was still there, but my daggers had been taken. My belt had been taken off to loosen my breeches. I was not hurt save for a few bruises from my fall.  
  
Next to me was a bedside counter. A candle lay there and a book. The book was leather bound and quite small. The cover was plain, with no design nor name.  
  
Curiosity took over and I picked up the book. I turned it around in my hand, feeling its smooth surface. Finally, I opened it to the first page.  
  
First Entry:  
  
I was the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers. It was a worthy position in Gondor's army, given to me by my father. But I did not receive my Captaincy because of battle prowess.  
  
I was a poet, a dreamer, and a musician. I was a lover of the arts.  
  
And yet, I was also a soldier. My strength with the bow was good and my firing accurate. My blade was elven-made, a present from my brother, Boromir. It was more slender than Gondorian blades, so I had another made for common use in Ithilien.  
  
My father was the Steward of Gondor, and my brother, the heir. I loved them and my mother. But my father was different.  
  
Sometimes, I wish that I had another father. I would rather give up my status and have a loving father, than be in the position that I was in now.  
  
My father loved my brother and not I. It was obvious. Even in our names, you could tell. 'Boromir' meant 'Mighty Jewel.' 'Faramir' meant 'Sufficient Jewel.'  
  
Through the words he spoke and the actions he commanded, I could tell he loved me not. My captaincy meant my banishment from court. There was no more need for him to deal with me and my "excuses." He would no longer have to see my face and feel the disappointment I evoked.  
  
What did I do?  
  
Nothing. I let him be. I let him discourage and push me lower than Boromir. It was his personality and his nature that influenced his actions. After all, he was the Steward and Ruler of Gondor.  
  
I sank into depression more than often and my worrying would make me ill and weary.  
  
Faramir of Gondor  
  
I blinked. Was this Faramir's diary? This was treason. Were the brothers planning to take the throne together, or was it just their way of expressing anger?  
  
And yet, I had to feel bad for the second son of the Steward. He wasn't favored, nor loved. But he still respected his father and brother. How horrible to know that your father wanted to banish you so much, he wouldn't do it outright. He'd let you suffer with a better title.  
  
I wondered if he had left it here by accident.  
  
Just then, the door opened. The book dropped from my hands and onto the blankets. My hand rested on the leather cover. I looked up.  
  
Faramir strode in, two guards behind him. His eyes widened when he saw me, and his expression was of pure fear when he saw what I'd done.  
  
He's left it here by accident.  
  
It was filled with treason.  
  
And I had read it all. 


	10. Ithilien

Author's note: I am so sorry for not posting this sooner! These weeks have been absolutely crazy! Especially the Oscars craze! Who would have thought, 11 Oscars for Return of the King!!! Here's the big number 10, everyone! Please keep reviewing!  
  
Ithilien  
  
"Go." Ordered Faramir quietly in Numenorean, "Don't stand guard at the door."  
  
The guards retreated and shut the door behind them.  
  
Faramir looked at me for a long moment, his sapphire blue flecked with gray eyes boring into me. He took a chair and placed it beside the bed. He sat down and was quiet for a few minutes.  
  
I half sat, half lay beneath the covers, staring intently at the leather diary. Finally, he spoke, "My Rangers tell me that they found you in Ithilien. They say that you passed out when they found you and that you were armed. And yet, you were not well prepared. You had no food, nor water. No weapon save your daggers were at hand."  
  
I watched him impassively with nothing to say.  
  
He thought for a long moment and then asked, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Mankoi lle irma sint?" I asked in Quenya, saying: why do you want to know?  
  
"Amin dele ten' lle." He said softly: I am worried about you.  
  
"Uuner uma, n'dela no'ta." I retorted: No one does, don't worry about it.  
  
He sighed, "Amin hiraetha, Arwenamin." Said Faramir: I'm sorry, my lady.  
  
There was a long silence. For some reason, I regretted my words. I winced at his apology but remained quiet.  
  
"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, knowing that he would send me back to the White City.  
  
"What would you have me do?" he asked softly. "I must send you back to Minas Tirith, though my heart tells me that it is from there that you flee from. But from what, I do not know. Perhaps you would tell me, but I will not ask it of you."  
  
I pondered these words, finally replying with, "It is true, my lord, I do not want to return to your City. I would go elsewhere."  
  
"And where would this 'elsewhere' be?"  
  
"I know not." I answered truthfully.  
  
"Imladris? Perhaps you miss your home." He said gently.  
  
"I miss my mother." I said without thinking.  
  
"Your mother." he echoed softly.  
  
"She is dead." I stated regretfully.  
  
"It was not of your doing."  
  
"How do you know?" I spat suddenly.  
  
He surveyed me calmly, his dark lashes veiling his blue-gray eyes. "I take my words back, my lady. I had no right to say that. Forgive me."  
  
I checked his eyes, seeing nothing but sweet sincerity, "I shouldn't have lashed at you like that, my lord. You did not know the full story."  
  
He did not ask me to tell him what happened so I did not. It was painful to think of it, let alone speak of it. My finger traced the cover of the leather-bound book, almost afraid of giving it back to Faramir.  
  
His hand neared mine as he touched the diary, fingering it for a moment. I drew my hand away and he picked it up and placed it on the bedside counter once more.  
  
"You read all of it, I suppose." He said finally.  
  
I did not speak, but faced him, my eyes telling him, "Yes."  
  
A flicker of fear passed through his weary face. "What would you have me do?" he asked again.  
  
"With me?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.  
  
He bowed his head in silent acknowledgement.  
  
It was absurd; I couldn't tell him. He wouldn't understand. He was a Captain; he was the Steward's second son. What did he know of dreams and hopes? He had everything he could wish for. He was a Ranger, a Scholar, and a Healer. He was what I had always dreamed to be.  
  
"I...I want to stay."  
  
"Stay in Ithilien?" He said incredulously.  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To be a Ranger." I breathed.  
  
"There are no female Rangers." He said, like the night we met.  
  
"Everything must have a start."  
  
"You do not know how to fight."  
  
"When you first became a Ranger, did you know how to fight?"  
  
"My lady, this...idea, it's not possible. Girls can't fight. They can't. No one's ever done it."  
  
"It's only impossible until someone does it."  
  
"It's unthinkable. You can't be sure of your ability."  
  
I sighed and he continued, "You have never even lifted a sword. You cannot be sure of your physical strength. You have not proven your skill."  
  
"Have you ever felt like you knew that you could do something, but someone who controlled you, never gave you the opportunity? Have you ever felt so sure of yourself, but you were not given a chance to prove your worth? Haven't you ever felt that when you've finally made the right decision, you only have it snatched away from you?"  
  
My words hit home.  
  
He turned away from me and I couldn't see what he was thinking. Had I hurt him with my words? How could I have?  
  
"Yes." He said finally. "I have felt like that." He turned back to me and I could detect a new glimmer of emotion in his eyes.  
  
I leaned into the pillows, resting my head against them.  
  
"You've heard all that I've wanted to say." I said softly. "Do as you wish, my lord, for you are the Son of Gondor."  
  
He looked at me and frowned, "The truth is, I don't know what to do. I want to give you a chance, but..." he paused, "it's not according with law."  
  
I stared at the ceiling, "Do what you want to do, my lord."  
  
"I will."  
  
I smiled slightly at his remark.  
  
"Why do you want to be a Ranger?" he asked then and there.  
  
"Because I've had dreams..." Faramir stiffened, "And they've shown what I should be. I've always wanted to be a Ranger, to serve my family and Middle-Earth in this way."  
  
"Oh." Said Faramir softly, and he returned his steady gaze to my eyes. "You dream?" he said the two words slowly.  
  
I nodded, eyeing his clenched fist.  
  
"During day or night?"  
  
"Both." I said.  
  
"Do they ever come true?"  
  
"Occasionally. I dream of the past and near future."  
  
"Oh." He sighed.  
  
"My lord, what's wrong? Are the dreams important?" I inquired.  
  
"No. It's nothing."  
  
I nodded, still curious.  
  
He stood, "I will decide what to do in three hours time. The sun has not set yet, but I want you to sleep. I will not risk your condition again. You may leave these chambers tomorrow morning. I will send for you when it is time."  
  
"Thank you, my lord." I said quietly.  
  
"It's been a long day." He sighed, "It won't get any shorter. Sleep well, my lady."  
  
With those words, he left me, shutting the door silently. I could hear his retreating footsteps and his cool voice as the men greeted him. I stared at the door.  
  
Why was he so curious about the dreams? They weren't important, mostly childhood memories. But some were, I remembered. I had seen important things, whether they would be or not.  
  
I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.  
  
I had things to do tomorrow. 


	11. Decision

Author's note: *covers face with hands* PLEASE don't hurt me! I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! *racks brains* I was so busy. I wrote stuff during Spring Break...but it all ended up in the trash can. I've plotted out so much...the little scenes like this aren't easy to conjure up anymore. I really want the battle scenes to be a highlight. Please don't run away, I'm still writing Red Dawn. I'm also trying to start a website for a role-playing-game/fanfiction archive/'me' webbie. But I really need some administrators for the RPG. If someone wants to try it out (it doesn't matter whether you've never even seen an RPG before, or know what the heck it means!) just email me: forever_faramir@hotmail.com and put 'White City RPG' as the title. Just tell me your name, email, RPG experience. (You can add: your own webbie/fanfic/RPG)  
  
Decision  
  
There was a gentle rap at the door.  
  
"W-who is it?" I said blearily, my mind drugged with sleepiness.  
  
"Lieutenant Mablung, my lady." Said a voice through the door.  
  
"One moment, if you please." I sat up gingerly and pushed the blankets off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Taking my time, I stood, feeling better than I had the night before.  
  
I made my way to the door and opened it. "Good morning." I murmured.  
  
He chuckled, "I'm sorry if I woke you."  
  
"No, no, I don't mind." I said.  
  
"Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Much."  
  
"That's good to hear."  
  
I smiled a little. Mablung was of the nice, sweet sort. Faramir was lucky to have such a loyal soldier at his call.  
  
"Lord Faramir wishes to speak with you."  
  
"Oh. Of course." I nodded.  
  
My heart pounded wildly and I looked at Mablung expectantly.  
  
"He hasn't told a soul."  
  
"Not even you?"  
  
"Not even me." He echoed, "No, he's quite confidential with these matters. It's between you and him, no one else."  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
No, he wouldn't let me stay. He couldn't. I was only a girl. An ambitious half-elf. I had no place in Ithilien. In war. Faramir would have came himself to speak with me if he wanted me to stay.  
  
The only reason for the summons was to comfort me.  
  
"He'll be waiting outside the door in about half of an hour." He said as he made for the door.  
  
"Your belongings were searched. They're over there." He added. "Nothing was removed except the daggers that you had before. They're with the Captain."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Mablung stepped outside and I was left alone.  
  
I locked the door and opened my saddlebags. I looked for my gowns but decided against the idea. There was no point in looking fancy.  
  
I took out my only other set of male clothing. I undressed swiftly and tied the cords of the cuffed white shirt. I pulled on the dark breeches and took up my tunic.  
  
Black velvet, it was. And in the centre was the crest of my house, embroidered with silver thread. It had been my brother's tunic.  
  
He had given it to me after Mother's death to console me. It was meant to be a ceremonial possession, a memento.  
  
Brother looked like a prince in it. Mother had loved it when he wore the tunic to dances and banquets.  
  
I slid it on and brushed my thick hair back. Taking a narrow strip of leather, I tied it behind me.  
  
I washed my face in a cool basin of water, which had been left there the night before. Sighing as I dried my face, I cleaned my teeth and sat back down on my bed.  
  
A gentle knock at the door, "Lady Ariaelle?"  
  
I unlocked the door and opened it.  
  
There stood Faramir, Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, Son of the Steward of Gondor.  
  
"My lord," I said, bowing my head.  
  
"Rise." He said softly.  
  
I rose and looked at him. Tentatively, I stepped back, allowing him to enter.  
  
"Are you well rested?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
"Please, don't call me that anymore. It's very difficult to talk that way."  
  
I lowered my eyes in silent compliance.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. He put a gentle hand to my forehead. Satisfied, he drew his hand back and asked, "Do you wish to leave now?"  
  
There, I was to return to Minas Tirith. "Whatever you wish, sir."  
  
"No 'sir'. No 'my lord'. Same with the rest. Please? It gets very...very burdensome."  
  
"I can ride back alone."  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked sharply.  
  
I didn't reply. I was afraid that I'd burst into tears.  
  
"Oh, I see." He murmured after a while, "I'm sorry. Will you walk with me?"  
  
Apprehensively, I took his arm.  
  
Was he jesting? This was no joke. Why didn't he just send me home and be done with it, I thought impatiently.  
  
He led me out of my room and we walked along the stone corridors. The depressing gray suited my mood. There was no sign of timber or any wooden section of the building.  
  
"What is this place?" I asked, lips parted slightly in awe.  
  
"Ithilien's refuge, Henneth-Annun." He answered.  
  
"Henn-neth A-nnun." I pronounced slowly, "The Window...on...on the West?"  
  
"Mmm hmm." Faramir said.  
  
"Oh."  
  
We walked along a secluded hall and out one of the doors. The Anduin flowed nearby to my right. It curved into the trees ahead of us and out of sight. The woods seemed quiet. Behind me and to the left, I heard the echoes of gleeful laughter from several men and then a sharp one who barked at them, "Silence, you fools. Do you want me to fetch the Captain? Do you want him to see you all like this? Get back to work!"  
  
A playful snort erupted from Faramir. "Damrod..." he chuckled.  
  
I had to smile a bit. The Rangers did seem quite brotherly. Somehow, Faramir's presence seemed to affect my mood. I no longer felt angry or hopeless, but content and curious as to where he was leading me.  
  
Faramir led me into the trees, through a path that only he knew well. The grass had been trodden on thoroughly, but only by one man. We entered a clearing. He looked back to see if I was still behind him and I nodded. He smiled a little and almost walked into a tree.  
  
"Whoa..." he muttered, his nose almost touching the tree trunk.  
  
I stopped in my tracks and giggled. Oh, he was charming all right, but this was beyond...  
  
Beyond what?  
  
Whoa...I almost said out loud. Now, what are you thinking?  
  
Whatever it is, it will NEVER happen. Faramir belongs with a lady.  
  
I'm a lady.  
  
A feminine one, with pretty lashes and a softer voice. No one wants to hear your own honking trap.  
  
I don't have a honking trap! Who do you think you are?  
  
Me, myself and I.  
  
I swerved back to reality and realised that Faramir was laughing along with me. He ran a hand through his roughly cut hair and walked on. He crossed the clearing with long strides and I tried to keep up.  
  
I wondered why this path was made for only one man to walk through it. I hastily covered my mouth when I realised that I had spoken aloud.  
  
"Oh, only I come through here." Came the answer.  
  
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself.  
  
"Because...everyone needs their own private spot in this world." He said solemnly.  
  
I stifled another onslaught of giggles. "Oh really? I shall have to search for my own then, I guess."  
  
"You'll find it."  
  
I smiled at his back. It was good that he couldn't see me.  
  
I don't know, am I allowed to smile at him?  
  
You have already.  
  
I rolled my eyes and collided with Faramir, who had stopped.  
  
"Daydreaming, are we?" he mused, helping me up.  
  
"You could say that, my lord."  
  
"Remember, no pretense."  
  
"Of course, s-"  
  
"Ah."  
  
"-ir." I finished obstinately.  
  
Since when had we become so friendly? When had I decided to laugh and not ponder over what to say next?  
  
Since this morning, I remarked.  
  
Why am I talking to him like this? He's the second heir to Gondor's throne! He's not some...some...  
  
He's not just somebody.  
  
He doesn't stand by, he pulls himself together and stands up to get work done. He's charismatic. He's charming. He's intelligent. He's kind and sweet and...  
  
What?  
  
Good looking?  
  
All right, you know what? PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.  
  
I followed him a little farther and he moved a branch aside.  
  
I ducked under and my lips parted in awe.  
  
"It's so beautiful," I sighed.  
  
"You like it?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
He sat down against a tree and motioned me to sit also. I settled on the grass near Faramir, with the bare minimal of etiquette: amount of space, between us.  
  
Across us lay a serene section of the majestic River Anduin. Before us, the grass melted into sand and pebbles. The Anduin licked at the shore. In the background, the Eastern Mountains loomed, casting a shadow on the other side of the river. I turned to Faramir.  
  
He seemed to be watching something very intently. Following his gaze, I beheld the reason for this exact spot as his hideout.  
  
Minas Tirith lay against the mountain. "Oh." I said softly, understanding so much with just a quick glance.  
  
"Faramir?" I addressed him by name, hoping that he didn't mind.  
  
His blue-gray eyes met mine.  
  
I flinched. Turn away, turn away, the voice in my head cried.  
  
Amazingly, we saw nothing before he drew back his gaze. I lay back, my brain swimming ferociously. It was close.  
  
But it didn't happen.  
  
Was it because Faramir had already seen before? Was it because he turned away?  
  
I sucked in deep breaths. One. Two. Three. The mental stress and fear had done as much as I was afraid it could.  
  
Weakly, I turned on my side, my front facing Faramir. I closed my eyes and tried to regain some of my strength.  
  
I felt his hand open mine and drop his healing pendant in my palm. He clasped my hand and after a moment (which I supposed he used to touch his own forehead), he touched mine. Then, I felt two fingers on my pulse.  
  
Almost instantly, energy flooded my body. After a few minutes he closed off and removed his pendant.  
  
"Thank you." I said.  
  
"Not a problem."  
  
I smiled a little and sat up slowly.  
  
"Well..." he began, "I brought you here because-" he stopped for a long moment, as if he were pondering the reason.  
  
"I brought you here because I wanted to tell you that I...well...um, I'll let you stay in Ithilien."  
  
I stared at him in astonishment. 


	12. Answer

_Author's note:_ I made up a lot of what is said about Ranger training. In fact, I think all of it is my own. I'm hope it does make sense. nervous laugh I just watched Master and Commander. It's actually...really good. I actually wrote the first part of a story for it. I'm still debating whether to put it up or not because I've just started to read the books. I don't want anything to be unreal. Maybe I should put it up and edit it after I've read more? Anyways, thanks a lot for your reviews and support, some of you have emailed me too; I really treasure them. Thanks a ton!  
  
Chapter 12: Answer  
  
"But..." I stammered.  
  
A small smile played at Faramir's lips, but dissuaded suddenly, "You're not pleased?"  
  
"No...I mean, yes! But I thought...it was impossible." I said a little confused.  
  
"You said that: it's only impossible until someone does it, right? I did spend a lot of time thinking about it. I hope I didn't disappoint you."  
  
"No!" I exclaimed, "Of course not. Well, this was very unexpected." I paused awkwardly, "Thank you."  
  
Tiredly, he said, "You're very welcome."  
  
"There's more to it, isn't there?"  
  
"Yes. There is."  
  
We sat in silence for a while. I watched the Anduin rock by and the trees rustle in the fresh breeze.  
  
"Why did you want to become a Ranger?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.  
  
I thought about the question but could find no good reason.  
  
"Well..." I began slowly, "I think it's because...you see, Father was always practicing in the courtyard and it was very intriguing when I was little. The Elves would show him some...special techniques and they were really beautiful. Sometimes, I'd ask him why he was a knight. And he said that he wanted to be a knight because he wanted to defend those who needed help. So that's what...sort of inspired me?" I ended in the tone of a question. It really didn't make much sense to me.  
  
Faramir leaned against the tree, his eyes closed in peaceful repose. He said nothing in reply.  
  
"My lord?" I ventured.  
  
He opened his eyes, "What is the matter?" he asked softly.  
  
"Oh no, nothing." I blushed.  
  
"I was just thinking about what you said. Most of the men, who are Rangers or soldiers, or even Officers, were forced to enlist as young men. They have no wish to be here. And if you do, I will do my best to let you stay. After all, I would have wanted to have my wishes fulfilled. If it is in my power to fulfill yours, then I will do so."  
  
He'd said, 'I would have wanted' and I was a little confused. Didn't he wish to be a Ranger too? Didn't he want to fight?  
  
"You...did not want this, did you?" I asked and gestured at his Captain insignia.  
  
"No. I did not wish to become a soldier. I wanted to avoid it, at all costs."  
  
I suddenly remembered when I had stumbled in on him. He had been writing poetry.  
  
"It was expected of me." He went on, "So I went ahead and did it because I had to."  
  
"You are an asset to Gondor's army." I said.  
  
"How would you know?" he smiled a little.  
  
"Ithilien is still standing."  
  
"It doesn't take much. We are well hidden. As long as we are careful, we will not be discovered. It has never been difficult, these past years. When I was made Captain, all of Ithilien still seemed at peace. But I fear that enemies are coming to claim Ithilien. The Haradrim are coming from the South. There are few now, but more will come, I am sure of it." he sighed. "Why can't we all stay at peace with one another? Why must we fight?"  
  
Some of what he said instilled fear in me. But I replied calmly, "You will find a way to stop them."  
  
"I can only hope that is so." He paused, "Here now, I'll tell you how it'll be from now on."  
  
I leaned forward, listening intently.  
  
"First, I will expect the same of you as the rest of the men. I will make exceptions for the first three months because you are just learning. But afterwards, you will be trained with the men. For now, Mablung will be teaching you how to handle a sword and belt knife. Damrod will be teaching you how to orient maps and scout unknown areas. And I will be teaching you how to use a bow from the ground and from the saddle."  
  
I listened with rapt attention, butterflies fluttering in my throat. What he said was a dream. It was a dream I had always wanted. A dream that I had always hoped for.  
  
"Second," he went on, "About sleeping quarters. You will not be sleeping in the same barracks as the rest of the Rangers." He stopped, "I will find a room for you when we get back."  
  
"Thank you." I said. "You know, I really cannot repay you. I don't have any money or..."  
  
"Stop that." He interjected quietly, "I'm not doing this for money. I'm doing this because I think you can do this too."  
  
The sudden pride I felt was more beautiful than I thought it would be. Being a girl, I had never been on my father's good side. To have someone speak to me as of equal intelligence and importance was something new. And I loved it.  
  
"I will warn you now. When we are out scouting or in skirmishes or in battles, these privacy requirements may be gone. When we are out of Henneth- Annun for days, we bathe in the Anduin, food is rationed, and we may not sleep fitfully. Living standards are at a minimal, really." He stopped and coughed, "Any questions?"  
  
I shook my head. I didn't want him to stop. The whole idea was fanatically interesting.  
  
"You will also be required to swear an oath of service and loyalty to my lord Steward. After you swear to him, you will also do the same to me as I will be your Captain. I will take you to Minas Tirith in a few weeks. If you ever want to leave or resign, you must give me a period of notice before I discharge you from the army. If there are any problems between yourself and another Ranger or Officer or maybe even the group, please tell me. There has never been a female Ranger at this base. Not all of them will accept new ideas."  
  
His eyes were suddenly full of concern, "Promise me that you'll talk to me, or Mablung if I'm not around."  
  
"I promise." I said, then asked, "About clothing and weapons, do I purchase my own?"  
  
"Ranger clothing and armor will be given to you. If you need something larger or smaller, just speak to Mablung and he'll find you something. For the weapons, we will supply you with a basic bow and quiver, a belt knife and a sword. You may keep them, though I do suggest that you buy other ones of better quality. Minas Tirith has many shops for good weapons. My belt knife was made there." He unlaced the cords that tied the scabbard to his belt and handed it to me.  
  
I felt around the edges and unsheathed the small blade. Its scabbard was plain black leather, but the small hilt and blade showed quality. On the smooth side of the knife was written Faramir's name and station. The other side was plain, though space was left for words. I sheathed it again and handed it to him.  
  
"Any other questions?" he asked.  
  
"No." I looked at him, "Not right now."  
  
"Well, I suppose you are hungry. Breakfast will be on in a few minutes. Care to join me?"  
  
I smiled and followed him back to the base. 


End file.
